Sister-Sons
by lattethunder
Summary: "We're taking this journey together." - Into the final moments of Fili and Kili as they pay the ultimate price in defense of King and Kin. Written true to The Hobbit novel but with elements of the film throughout.


Within the giant halls of Erebor, there was silence. Even amongst mountains of reclaimed gold, the promise of their homeland retaken, revenge finally smiting Smaug the Great and Terrible in the form of a blackened arrow into his heart, Thorin and Company sat in stoic quiet. For outside the walls a battle waged, a battle centered on the treasure hoard upon which the dwarves sat. All were dressed in decorated silver and gold, bearing magnificent helms and mail with their worn traveling cloaks discarded. Yet the armour, fashioned decades ago by skilled dwarven hands to take arrow or sword, saw no conflict.

Kili's gaze through a shooting hole in the wall had been virtually unbreakable since the Company had found themselves a member short. He was not alone when he allowed his thoughts to stray to Bilbo Baggins in spite of the hobbit's evident betrayal. Many of the company quietly hoped to see the hobbit sprinting up to their doorstep, Arkenstone in hand and apologies at his tongue. Instead, the Halfling was on the field: while they were holed up in the safety of the mountain.

"I cannot bear this any longer!" The youngest of Thorin's nephews pounded a fist into the stony wall and turned, temper blazing, to his king. Fili glanced up from his sword, which he had been polishing long after any blemish was rubbed away. "We sit inside the Gate, while goblins swarm over our walls! Blood is shed by our kinsfolk defending Erebor, while we do nothing!"

"Kili—" His brother began to rise, before Kili put himself in a bad way with Thorin.

"No, Fili, something must be done. If I offend our uncle in some way by speaking the truth, then so be it. He won't be King under the Mountain for much longer if he doesn't fight for it."

The Company remained in the silence of reluctant agreement. "Kili, you best watch your tongue, that is our king you are speaking to." Fili hissed in his brother's ear. Of course, Fili too yearned to join the struggle with their kin of the Iron Hills.

Until this moment, Thorin had stood with a look of thought-consuming anger in his face, moving only to occasionally glance at the proceedings outside. It seemed that he had yet to recover from Bilbo's burglary of the Arkenstone, even though the action was in good intentions. The dwarf tightened his grip about the hilt of his notched axe.

Kili's courage sunk straight to the bottom of his boots as he waited for the king's fury and Fili felt that he was about to become an only child.

"Tell me, Kili," Thorin lifted his dark eyes to his nephews. "How quickly can your spirited person lower the Gate?"

A cheer went up amongst the Company and they rose with a great clattering of sword and shield. Even Bombur leapt to his feet (well, it was more of a roll than a leap), as Kili sprinted to the levers with operated the Front Gate.

Thorin moved to the front of his company, a fire in his eyes unlike any the dwarves had seen before. Kingsfire, the blazing courage and might of a leader with a homeland to defend. The Gate fell forward with a resounding crash, loud enough to catch the attentions of those caught in the heat of battle. Far greater was the sound of Thorin's bellow, a call that would rival the ivory war horns of Gondor.

"To me! To me! Elves and Men! To me! O my kinsfolk!" Illuminated by torch-fire, his golden armour lit up far greater than the hide of any dragon young or old. Thorin and his faithful twelve companions burst forth from the Lonely Mountain, the great King's ranks soon swelling with Men, Elves, and Dain's people as they united under his might.

Goblins heaved stones down from the sides of the mountain in an attempt to slow the charge. No wretched rock would halt the King under the Mountain as he crashed into the tide of black armour and tattered red flags, axe biting into the flesh of goblin and Warg.

Most of the Company was grim-faced, concentrated on their bloody business. The brothers Kili and Fili, however, could hardly contain their smiles. There was no other place they could possibly aspire to be than at the heels of their King and kin as he defended his reclaimed kingdom. Even though they were very young with no memories of Erebor, Thorin's passion for the old Dwarven stronghold was infectious.

Fili ducked beneath the hammer swing of a burly goblin, driving his sword deep up into the behemoth's ribcage. With the rattle of its final breath, dark blood surged down the hilt of his blade and over his fingers. Kili, meanwhile, felled a charging Warg with an arrow shot through its crusty and mucus-smeared nostril. The pair attacked with the ferocity of heroes of old. Throughout this struggle, they never failed to remain close to each other, often teaming up to make quick work of more challenging foes.

The plains, once sieged incessantly by the wroth of crackling dragon fire, found themselves in a deluge. This was no sudden onslaught of rain to nourish the dry and dusty soil, but a constant watering with blood. Spewing forth from the freshly lacerated flesh of men, dwarves, elves, and goblins, it turned the earth to a thick and sticky mud. In time, the ground would spring forth with new life fed by the sacrifice of monsters and heroes. On this day, however, it offered only to consume the blood and generated a foul muck. No trees or bush to duck behind; one was left entirely in the open without so much as a patch of grass to die upon. The Desolation of Smaug, even as the dragon began to rot in the deep belly of the lake, continued to witness carnage and ruin.

Their support was faltering. Thorin's quickly scrambled party of armies could not pierce the goblin ranks, as the horde continued to swarm up the sides of the mountain and encompass the group on all sides. Warriors of all armies fell in piles yet the goblin's numbers seemed untouched.

"We're being flanked!" Balin bellowed to the Company as he hacked at an attacking goblin. He looked to the mountain where the remaining of Bard, Dain, and the Elf-King's fighters were entangled in a clash of their own. "No aid is coming!"

"Let them come!" Kili answered. Though he was wearied and drenched in goblin-blood, Thorin still fought on and so his nephews did the same. "We are fighters, remember? Down to the last dwarf!"

It seemed centuries ago that they had been sitting together in Bilbo Baggin's cozy hobbit hole, emptying his stores of food in companionship and comfort. How Fili desired to be there now, sharing warming hobbit ales with the Company. Their blue hoods weren't so tattered and worn then, faces not yet gaunt from months of long travel and little food. It was a time when the Lonely Mountain still seemed impossibly far away and battle was hazy dream of triumph and valiance. He strongly hoped that the beloved hobbit was not trapped within this fray.

Both brothers were wracked with fatigue. Kili's fingers shook whenever he readied a fresh arrow; Fili felt as if his arms would give out with every sword stroke. Innumerable shallow cuts from glancing blows marked their arms and legs. Though his thoughts wandered to fond memories, Fili nodded to his brother in agreement. The sister-sons of Thorin were not easily disheartened.

The goblin army formed a ring about Thorin and Company, forcing the dwarves to fight back-to-back. With each foe that was brought down, two more clambered over the bodies to take their place. Bolg's tremendous bodyguard drove forth upon the backs of their monstrous Warg, directly at Thorin.

"Kili, to Thorin! To the King!" Fili, seeing that Thorin was alone against this assault, called for his brother. The two abandoned their skirmishes with foot-Orcs to meet the bodyguard and stand by their uncle.

Bolg's bodyguard was comprised of the largest and most blood-thirsty goblins the dwarves had ever encountered. Rotting teeth jutted out from their cavity-ridden gums and their few tufts of hair were tangled with mats. Shielded in rusty black armour and hoisting bloodied scimitars, they emitted a foul air of decay and cruelty. Their steeds, equally malicious, drew their lips across serrated canines. The Wargs snapped their maws in anticipation of the kill.

Fili's blade sliced open a Warg's burly left shoulder, causing it to lose its footing and crash, snout-first, into the mud. Its rider was only briefly detained, rising up over the wolf beast's flailing limbs. Kili was upon the guard in an instant with Fili not far behind. The youngest brother ducked below a scimitar swing by mere centimeters. Fili brought his weapon down upon the goblin's exposed arm, but it deflected off of the dark armour.

A roar of pain snatched the attention of the brothers and they veered toward the sound. Thorin drew his arm close to his chest, blood streaming from his forearm. He was struggling against two goblins, now wounded by a deep scimitar strike. One goblin hoisted its heavy war hammer, preparing to bring another blow upon the king. Kili abandoned his sword without a secondary thought, allowing the steel to fall into the murky sludge. He drew his bow, quick as a blink, readying an arrow.

With his attention taken, he failed to see the salivating jaws of the Warg stalking up behind him.

"No! Kili-" His brother called, but there was nothing to be done. Fili could not get past the Orc before him. He could only watch in sheer horror. Just as Kili released his shot, the Warg pounced.

The goblin with the hammer fell with an arrow stuck through its throat. Fili, however, did not see this. All he saw was Kili torn down, the Warg's jaws closing around his torso. Dwarven armour was incredibly strong and apt at deflecting sword blows, but it could not withstand the bite pressure of a mountain wolf.

The Warg gave a mighty shake of its head, snarls intermixing with the sound of fangs crunching mail and bone. One arm was free, pounding uselessly against the enormous wolf's snout. His body collapsed within the Warg's maw like the splintering of a bird's wing to a hungry cat. Hollow and fragile. He wanted to call out for his brother, but drawing a breath was impossible. The Warg crushed all sound, and soon all life, out of him.

_Fili, help me_

Never were they separated like this. He waited for Fili to appear at any moment, to end these few moments of agony that dragged on to an entirety. There was only the dark blur of filthy Orcs about him and the musky smell of the Warg, the reek of the blood-soiled earth. The Warg's teeth, rotting out of its pocketed gums, drove ever more hungrily.

"No! Nooo!" He couldn't suppress these outcries, losing sight of his brother to a fresh swell of goblins. They boiled forth from the cold pit of dread filling his guts. He tried his mightiest to deny the thought while his heart was consumed with knowing. The knowing that the Warg bite was certainly fatal. His brother was being ripped apart at this very moment and he was incapable of saving him. Even if Kili's body was not completely broken, Warg bites were vile and brought disease quickly. Inflicted in the open battlefield, if the initial attack was not enough to kill him, a raging infection would take his life within days.

_We're taking this journey together._

_"Kili, grab my hand!" _

The thunderous giant storm was the first time they had felt so terrified to be separated. To watch his other half be pulled away on the precipice of a giant, uncontrolled stone beast had seemed nearly unbearable. Unable to defend his younger brother and losing was maddening for Fili, while Kili could barely grasp the sensation of fear and loss.

_I thought I lost you._

Even if they were to be crushed by hurling stones, they had to be together when it happened.

_We're supposed to die together._

The Warg grew bored with its prize as the dwarf ceased to struggle. It released its jaws, dropping Kili unceremoniously into the mud. It licked its chops, now flavored with the delectable taste of dwarven blood, and dove back into the massacre.

"Fili! Where is your brother!?" Thorin questioned his nephew as he pounded the blade of his axe into a thick goblin throat.

Fili needed to give no answer. The look on his face was enough.

Thorin himself stood in gold armour now streaked with red, valiant light turned to a dying sunset. Blood surged from innumerable wounds. With each blow he struck, a goblin sprung forth to deliver another. The Company, tired and injured and overwhelmed, could not come to his aid. Save for Fili. Kili had fallen in the defense of Thorin; it was the eldest nephew's obligation to continue this loyalty. To spite every desire to hack his way to Kili, Fili turned to fight for the King under the Mountain.

The dwarves of Durin's line made their final stand against Bolg's bodyguard.

_I will not fail my family again._

Erebor was, at last, reclaimed. Through all trials and tribulations, Thorin had cared for his company at all costs. Even before Erebor, Thorin was steadfast in his guidance of his nephews. Like a father, he taught them the greatest of values. The brothers were raised upon loyalty, honor, and an absolute dedication to family. It was Thorin who handed the young brothers their first weapons, when they were so small Kili could barely draw an arrow and Fili thought he would never be strong enough to lift a sword. Yet Thorin was never frustrated. He praised regardless of many mistakes. It was Thorin who told stories of courageous dwarven warriors into the late hours of the night by firelight.

Never would they have been permitted on this quest if not for their relationship with Thorin. Regardless, a dozen trolls would not have the strength to pull Thorin's nephews away from their uncle. Every step of the adventure was to be taken together.

The bodyguard parted like a sea of maggots around a finger inserted into a festering wound. Forth came the head of the goblin army. Bolg, son of Azog the Defiler, leader of Orc and Warg, hoisted his bone-hilted cleaver. Descended from the twisted shadows of Mount Gundabad, the goblin was bathed in the blood of man, dwarf, and elf. He was a mass of filthy flesh and yellowed bone, a walking master of cruelty and malice. His lips curled across blackened teeth as his hungry gaze closed upon the defenders of Erebor.

For Kili.

The King under the Mountain met this hell-spawned foe without hesitation, his nephew only a shade of a step behind him. Both descendants of Durin were marked with wounds and weighted by their exhaustion, but the goblin warlord seemed untouched by the struggle. His cleaver swings fell like boneshaking hammer blows. Bolg's bodyguard did not make themselves involved in this fight, instead watching with guttural jeers and spitting at the dwarves when they drew close.

A few shrieking archers trained their arrows upon the unsuspecting dwarves. The pointed rusty arrowheads found their way into dwarven flesh. Thorin came to one knee with an arrow sunk deep into his left thigh.

"Thorin!" With an arrow embedded in his shoulder and back, Fili still charged for Bolg as the goblin began to march at the king. Bolg swung an armoured arm, its weight striking Fili across the head and bringing the dwarf to the ground. His blood-greased fingers found Fili's throat.

"First, I will take your Mountain," The goblin spoke in a voice dripping with sadistic delight. His piercing eyes flickered to Thorin. "Then I will consume the flesh of your kin."

The cleaver swung, its points sinking through Fili's armour with absolute ease.

It was not a feeling of pain like Fili had expected. Rather, he was met with the sense of complete shame. What a disgrace he was, to fall so easily while his King was in need. He was a failure as a nephew and more so as an older brother.

Thorin's roar of rage went unheard to him. Sparked by the anguish of watching his family die in his defense, the King charged, his injured leg hardly supporting him. The unyielded Bolg was not affected by this assault. His cleaver, still slick with Thorin's nephew's blood, struck the King deep in the chest. It was a grave blow. At last, Thorin sunk to his knees, breathless and battered as the massive goblin stood before him. Bolg's face contorted into a most wretched smirk.

"Bring forth a sword. I want the King's head displayed upon a pike for all his people to see."

Bolg's guard had no time to bring him the weapon he ordered, for a tremendous roar shook the ground beneath them. A bear, larger than any Warg upon the field, exploded through the bodyguard. Orcs screamed as their limbs were torn from their bodies and innards spilled by claws as sharp as spears. The bruin turned to Bolg, its enormous paws consuming the goblin in its grasp. Beorn, the bear-man of the forest, shattered Bolg's bones beneath his incredible weight.

"Stand, King under the Mountain, stand until the battle is won!" The bear snarled, ordering Thorin to his feet.

"Fili, rise," Thorin planted a hand on his nephew's shoulder, half-guiding, half-forcing the dying dwarf to his feet. The King stood strong, ignoring the outcries of his own weakening body. Their eyes met and in Thorin's stormy expression Fili saw nothing but pride. It did not take many words for Fili to understand his uncle's gaze. "You have done the greatest possible service to your people. Now go. Go to your brother, my sister-son."

In the best dwarven gesture of greeting and goodbye, Fili and Thorin struck their foreheads together.

It was freezing down in the muck. He could not move for the cold and the pain. Each breath awakened a chorus of torment, broken ribs pushing farther into his lungs and bringing suffocating blood into his throat. He tried his greatest not to draw a breath before the burning need grew to be too much and he had to bring in that torturous air. The sky above was a foul grey-brown, swarming with bats seeking to feed upon the dying. Soon the wretched beasts would swoop down to feast and hungry Wargs would look for meat freshly slain. The sky appeared to be darkening before Kili realized that it was his own vision beginning to weaken. He would die here, surrounded in the pained cries of the dying and sinking into bloodied mud. Alone.

The world turned completely black to him now, eyes already seeking the darkness of eternal sleep. Perhaps it was the right way to die, at the foot of the fabled Lonely Mountain. He tried to find comfort in this thought, yet found none. He would rather have died eaten by trolls or by hungry spiders if it meant Fili could be with him. Kili struggled for another breath, knowing that his body would not suffer many more. The cold was inescapable, seeping into his very heart.

A sudden warmth upon his face sent out all doubt or fear. Even as Kili's eyes failed him, he knew Fili's presence the moment his brother collapsed alongside him.

Fili pressed his brow to his brother's just as Kili released a final breath, though this breath left his body without a hint of pain.

"Thorin!"

Dwalin cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled across the piles of stiffening bodies.

"Thorin Oakenshield!"

His calls went without an answer. Balin walked a short distance ahead, his right arm in a red-stained sling. The wizening dwarf was sorrowed in his countenance.

"We will find him, Balin," Dwalin affirmed sternly. "We will bring him back to Erebor."

"It is the condition in which we may find him that I fear," Balin answered.

"Thorin is a mighty warrior. He would not fall so easily." Dwalin's words carried a subtle desperation. If Thorin still stood, he would certainly be among the members of the Company in search for their companions.

Balin simply shook his head and continued to walk among the dead. So many lives lost over such a foolish struggle. Gold-hunger brought down young fighters of all armies. Tender-faced elves, men barely aged past their childhood years, and dwarves who had never seen a true conflict all lay with the putrid corpses of goblins. A calamity for all, just as destructive as the fire Smaug once brought down upon the land.

A sight across the way made the dwarf's breath catch in his throat. At first he expected some trickery, that his mind was deceiving him with its own fear. The longer he stood looking upon it, the more his denial was worked away by unforgiving reality.

"What is it, brother?" Dwalin questioned, seeing Balin stopped in his tracks. "What bothers you-"

Dwalin, mighty dwarven war hero, was brought to his knees. He buried his face in his palms, stifling the cry of anguish that sought its way out of his heart and soul.

Of all the dwarves to be lost, it was the youngest in their Company. Kili lay facing the sky, an expression so calm upon his face he could almost be sleeping. Fili's face was pressed into his brother's hair. He had spent his final moments watching over Kili until his own life slipped away.

"They fell defending their King."

Balin turned to the voice. Thorin, supported by Beorn but visibly weak, looked upon his slain nephews. Never had Balin seen the King with such a hollow expression. Thorin had no more strength remaining, his fire for Erebor nearly extinguished. At the sight of his young nephews lying in a pool of blood, he was even struck by the shadow of doubt.

_"And as Durin's Bane rose from the depths, wreathed in shadow and flame, the King of Khazad-dum stood in defense of the great city. Durin VI and his loyal son, Nain, delt many a blow to the beast of fire before it brought them into darkness."_

_ "But Uncle, if they died, what good were they to their people?" Fili questioned, his young face uncertain. "Who was to lead them?"_

_ "Why Fili, they were led by example. The willingness of Durin VI and his son to give their lives in the defense of their people was enough."_

_ "I would die for you any day, Uncle! Let Durin's Bane try to harm you- we'll make quick work of him!" Kili exclaimed. Fili nodded in fierce agreement._

_ Thorin chuckled and affectionately ruffled his nephew's dark hair. "You are not quite a warrior yet, Kili, and neither is your brother. You need not worry yourselves with promises of death and valor. Now quickly, it is very late. You will worry your mother staying out too long!" _

Memories of days long past, when his nephews were still quite small and easily enthralled by his storytelling.

"Was it truly worth it, Balin? Was our struggle worth the loss of so much life?"

"Many lives were lost when we lost Erebor. Loss of life, it seems, was necessary to bring it back to us," Balin answered, as he and Dwalin went to assist their king and take him from Beorn. The bear man vanished into the battlefield without a word.

"We will make it known, Thorin. No dwarf will walk the halls of Erebor without knowing Fili and Kili's sacrifice." Dwalin said firmly, struggling to keep composure.

"Quickly now, we must tend to your wounds," Balin insisted, even though all three dwarves knew the severity of Thorin's injuries. Balin's true wish was to get Thorin to the surviving members of the Company and allow them their final exchanges with the King.

"No, I cannot leave them here." Thorin refused resolutely.

"I will stay with them, Thorin," Dwalin offered immediately. "I will not leave their sides, not until they are brought to you and prepared for the burial they deserve."

"Thank you, old friend." He reluctantly accepted Dwalin's promise. With Balin at his side, Thorin made his slow final climb back to Erebor.

It was not long after the conclusion of The Battle of Five Armies that Thorin Oakenshield, the first King under the Mountain after a many a year, followed his nephews into the golden halls of their fallen ancestors. When Thorin was buried underneath the mountain, the Arkenstone upon his chest, Fili and Kili were buried near to him side-by-side. As Erebor bloomed with Dain's steadfast rule, the story of their sacrifice was told by all surviving members of the Company. Fili and Kili became legend to the new generations of dwarven children, heroes in the adventures of Thorin and Company recited by loving uncles late into the night.

**Author's Note**

**I have loved The Hobbit for as long as I could remember, starting with a childhood raised watching the animated film almost daily. Memorizing the songs long before I finally read them in the book, learning the names and stories of Gollum, Bilbo, Thorin, Gandalf, long before I even grasped the magnitude that **_**The Lord of the Rings **_**and its predecessor held in the world of fantasy literature (and the immense sway it would later have in Hollywood).**

**With the live action release of The Hobbit, I feel reignited passion for Tolkein's genius, giving his amazing works a long-deserved reread. **

**While I always liked Fili and Kili in the novel and animated film, I admittedly have been captivated by their portrayal on the big screen. I only hope that young audiences, their interest captured by the romantic sway of epic battles and handsome warriors, will take the time to discover the written brilliance that is Tolkein's works.**

**This was ultimately inspired by a fantastic piece on deviantart by brilcrist; please go support this talented artist! **


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